


Like a Good Idea

by gwydionx



Category: Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 06:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwydionx/pseuds/gwydionx
Summary: Staring at Bruce’s gorgeous face, Hal knew he’d had a reason for doing this here, now. With the lights from the monitors overshadowing them, ring in hand, masks off but still in uniform. Running on two hours of sleep. Something about the tone of five seconds ago had told him now was the perfect time to open his mouth and—“I fucked Constantine.”





	Like a Good Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this amazing panel](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwj9n9XBj_PcAhVPIDQIHawfAW8QjRx6BAgBEAU&url=http%3A%2F%2Fspector.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F145613560172%2Fhal-jordan-and-john-constantine-had-a-fling&psig=AOvVaw2YKO6wYnh6ThfSoQ2MIg2C&ust=1534562118608369) in Justice League #51.

In retrospect, the Batcave was probably a bad idea.

It’d seemed like a good one at the time. Staring at Bruce’s gorgeous face, Hal knew he’d had a reason for doing this here, now. With the lights from the monitors overshadowing them, ring in hand, masks off but still in uniform. Running on two hours of sleep. Something about the tone of five seconds ago had told him now was the perfect time to open his mouth and—

“I fucked Constantine.”

Like he said, at the time, it’d seemed like a good idea.

Now Bruce had him pinned in a stare. That blank, unblinking stare that probably meant he was imagining Hal maimed bloody beyond recognition.

“I didn’t mean to,” he started. Then he realized what a spectacular douche line it was. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I _meant_ to,” he course-corrected. “It wasn’t some weird out-of-body experience or demonic possession or any bullshit like that. But…” His mouth had gone dry. “Pretty sure I fucked this up.”

The lack of response on Bruce’s face was unnerving. After another unblinking moment, he turned his attention back to the monitor at hand. “When.”

His eyes tracked Bruce’s movements. Nonchalant, like Hal had just told him the weather instead of bringing their entire whatever the fuck they had been doing for the last six months crashing down on their heads.

“A week ago. Give or take.” He hadn’t been on Earth long enough to tally it out. “Time gets a little muddy in zero grav.”

Bruce remained silently uninterested, pulling up another file.

And Hal’s guilt was doing summersaults. He started to pace, incapable of staying rooted. “Look, there were space gremlins and some kind of angry sorcerer and an underground bunker for days, and…” He ran a hand through his hair. “…A seriously _unending_ supply of booze and cigarettes. I think that guy has an extradimensional liquor cabinet in his trench coat.”

Bruce offered a grunt.

That’s the way it would be then. No knock-down, drag-out fight. No thrown monitors or broken jaws _._ Just Hal’s guts spilled on the floor, and an impassive grunt.

He knew it was more than he deserved.  

Hal drew a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders. He swore he felt physical pain when the mask made its appearance over his eyes. “For what it’s worth… This, whatever the hell this was… It was the best goddamn thing I ever had. And I’m sorry I blew it.”

He turned and descended the steps.

“Lantern.”

He turned back. Bruce stared at him.

“Space gremlins?” he said, completely deadpan.

It took a second to register—the corner of Bruce’s mouth quirked upward.

Bruce was laughing at him.

“You unbelievable prick,” he cursed. “I’m spilling my guts out all over your mancave, and you _laugh_ at me?” For a split-second, he forgot he was supposed to be the guilty one here.

There was nothing for it—Bruce was actually laughing now. Full-on, deep-belly chuckling. That sound always warmed Hal in places the Lantern light never reached.

But here, now, it only infuriated him. “Did you finally fry a modulating chip, or are you really not gonna leave me with a shred of dignity?”

Bruce tried to regain his composure, but it only brought another roll of laughter. He rose, making his way over to Hal to pull him into a loose hug that still felt like a bear was holding him. “ _Hal_ ,” Bruce breathed in his ear.

Hal didn’t know where this was going. And he tried to roll with the punch. “What… Babe, what are we doing right now?”

Bruce was still smiling. _Psychotic break_ , Hal’s mind provided helpfully. It was the only explanation. Until Bruce pulled him into a kiss.

With that kiss went all of Hal’s reservation. Bruce may well be crazy, but he was crazy, too, and if this is what psychosis felt like, he could get used to it. His tongue explored Bruce’s mouth, and Bruce was suddenly _there_ , against him, like he could replace every inch of John by sheer force of will.

When Bruce pulled back, just a fraction, he was still grinning. “ _Space_ gremlins?” he chuckled.

“You know what? Fuck you,” Hal laughed. “It was worse than it sounds.” He rested his forehead against Bruce’s. “You’re not mad?”

Bruce smirked—it took a second to see the sadness underneath. “Surprised. I always assumed it would be Barry.”

“Barry?” Hal snorted. Then the implication hit him. “Wait, you _expected_ me to fuck up?

“Expected, no. Anticipated the possibility, yes,” Bruce answered without qualm.

Hal had lost track of how many times he’d bounced from guilt to anger and back in this conversation. “Do you work at being a paranoid ass, or does it just come naturally?”

Bruce bit his neck again, and Hal jolted. “Tell me it doesn’t have its advantages,” he growled.

There was an edge of genuine vulnerability beneath the gravel in that voice, and Hal winced. “Yeah… Point proven,” he murmured, burying his fingers in Bruce’s hair.

Bruce returned the embrace, breathing in his presence in a way that turned Hal’s insides out.

“…What now?” Hal whispered.  

“Here’s what we do,” Bruce decided. “We finish analyzing these radiation signatures. Then we’re going to go upstairs.” His mouth pressed Hal’s in an obscene parody of kiss. “And I’m going to remind you why you come home to me.”

Bruce was doing it again—that Defcon-1-level bear-embrace that sent Hal’s body reeling. How he could go from impenetrable to passionate in a split-second left Hal breathless. “Oh, it’s on, baby.”

Hal’d had a lot of bad ideas in his life, he’d be the first to own that.

But this… This wasn’t one of them.


End file.
